


once bitten, twice shy

by stefonzolesky



Category: Kick-Ass (2010)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Trans Male Character, post the first movie but pretending the second one doesn't exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 23:38:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14862485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefonzolesky/pseuds/stefonzolesky
Summary: Pause. The video comes to a halt. Chris swears that he recognizes those eyes from somewhere.





	once bitten, twice shy

Chris D’Amico does not, in fact, hate that his father is dead. He isn’t exactly relieved, either. Not the way he should be. 

Because it’s set in stone. The disappointment, that is. It’s set in stone that Frank D’Amico is disappointed in his son for endless reasons, and that will never change, because he’s fucking dead.

The thing is, he does want to be a superhero. Kick-Ass, whoever he is, made Chris feel kind of human for a night. That’s something Dad never did for him.

Chris corrects himself, in his head. Swaps out ‘Dad’ for ‘Frank,’ because he wants to sever that tie, he wants to take another step towards feeling like a fucking person for once in his life.

The Kick-Ass website gets shut down. Chris watches it happen. He doesn’t know why he’s so disappointed, because it’s not like Kick-Ass would answer a message from him anyway -- not after what he did.

Chris’ mom drowns her sorrows, after Frank passes. Chris loves her, yeah, of course he does, but he's a teenager. Taking care of her should not fall to him, yet, somehow, it does. It does, and it fucking sucks.

One night, he digs around. Tries to find out who Kick-Ass is, but to no avail. He’s desperate. Grasping at straws.

And, in one last, desperate attempt, he pulls up the footage from Kick-Ass Unmasked that he swore he would never look at again.

He winces as soon as it starts, but forces himself to keep watching. This was his fault, he deserves to suffer for it. Kick-Ass suffered for it. He deserves to --

Pause. The video comes to a halt. Chris swears that he recognizes those eyes from somewhere.

“What the fuck,” He breathes out. That’s the kid from his school, the one who tried to talk to him at the comic book store, that’s Dave Lizewski. Suddenly, Chris can breathe a little easier.

 

Sometimes, Chris thinks he might just be unlucky. It must have taken some kind of fucking curse to land him where he is.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows Frank would have never let him follow -- “You’re not man enough,” He would say. “This is a job for a  _ man.” --  _ but led him on, like maybe one day, he would grow up, he would stab himself with a needle enough times, he would be  _ man enough _ . 

Chris doesn’t know why he wanted to take Frank’s place.

Maybe, it was the validation. If he could do that, he would be  _ good enough _ , he would be  _ man enough _ and that’s really all he’s ever wanted.

His mother calls him ‘Christopher.’

He’s never really expected anyone to call him Christopher, but he likes it. It makes him feel like royalty. His mom does it to catch his attention, because saying “Chris!” is snappier, more casual, but “Christopher!” is supposed to make his heart drop. Either one is far, far better than any alternative.

 

Chris catches Dave Lizewski throwing out his bloodied Kick-Ass costume behind the school in the middle of class.

“Dave?” The name falls out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

Dave freezes.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” He claims.

“I know you’re Kick-Ass,” Chris fires back. Dave’s back arches a little, in a weird way where it looks like he’s either protecting himself or giving up. “Don’t be such a pussy, man. Just talk to me.”

Dave straightens out his back a little. “You don’t wanna… kill me?” He looks confused. “But, you know that I--”

“Murdered Frank,” Chris interrupts. Dave winces. “Yeah. Dude, don’t worry about it. Honestly, I should thank you.”

Dave frowns. “You should? I killed your dad.”

“He was a dick,” Chris snaps. “He was a Grade-A, capital ‘F’ Fuckhead.”

“That bad, huh?” Dave laughs awkwardly, confusion infused in his tone. “It kinda haunts me, though. That I… did that.”

Chris frowns a little. “Don’t dwell on it. You did the right thing, I think.”

“You think?” Dave looks overly nervous, he’s practically rocking on his heels. “Or, you know.”

“I  _ think,” _ Chris reiterates. “I’m a fucking seventeen year old, I don’t know the in’s and out’s of the moral code handbook, or some bullshit like that. You  _ did _ murder someone, but he was a murderer, so I’m pretty sure it cancels out.”

Dave lets out a sigh of relief, brushing sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “That’s good. I’m glad. And -- my condolences, really.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Seriously, dude, stop. He sucked. I’m over it.”

It’s a complete lie, obviously, but Chris would rather get ahead of himself and say he’s over it than dwell on it and delve into the ups and downs of his relationship with his father in front of Dave Lizewski.

Dave looks like he doesn’t believe it -- rightfully -- but decides to say nothing else on it, instead giving his costume a final shove into the trash can. “Do you have anything I can burn this with, maybe?”

A laugh escapes Chris’ lips. “On me? No. But, we’ve got tons of lighter fluid at my house. If you can wait, I’ll help you burn it. Maybe we could even start a bonfire with it.”

Dave smiles a little, less tense and scared, and Chris feels relief wash over his body.

For some reason, Chris finds himself surprised when Dave  _ actually _ shows up at his house.

“I thought you were just being polite,” He admits, gesturing for Dave to step inside. “I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

Dave frowns. “Was I not supposed to?”

Chris laughs weakly, like he’s not used to the motion. “No, yeah. Yeah, you were. I just didn’t expect you to want to.”

The frown tugs further on Dave’s lips as he steps inside. A chill runs down his spine, Chris can see it happen.

Chris’ chest tightens. “If you’re uncomfortable, you can tell me,” He says. “I’m not going to make you stay.”

“It’s fine,” Dave promises. There’s a beat. He sets his backpack down. “You got lighter fluid?”

Chris laughs. “Right,” He says, watching Dave tug the torn Kick-Ass costume out of his bag. “Let’s burn that motherfucker, right?”

 

Eventually, the sun sets, and Chris finds himself roasting marshmallows over burning costumes with Dave Lizewski of all people. He leans forward to prod his stick into the fire, and winces. “Fuck.”

A concerned look immediately washes over Dave’s face. “Are you okay?”

Chris grimaces. “Fine.” He straightens out his back, cursing himself for letting Dave stay this late. “You’re gonna have to leave soon, though.”

Dave frowns. “Oh. That’s. Okay.”

Chris immediately feels bad.

“It’s nothing personal,” He promises. “I just have… something came up. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Dave leaves after a painfully miserable fifteen minutes where Chris tries to clutch at his ribs as discreetly as possible with hopes that Dave won’t notice. He’s sure Dave  _ does _ notice, but he’s polite enough to keep quiet about it.

Once Dave finally leaves, Chris slumps forward with a painful shudder shaking his frame. He pulls himself inside, shuts the door, and peels off layer after layer -- hoodie, t-shirt, binder.

Then, he remembers that it is not, in fact, Friday, and dies a little bit inside. It’s fucking Wednesday, and his life might as well be over. Fuck Dave Lizewski.

He considers asking his mom if he can skip out on school, but he can already hear her nagging voice -- even though he’s been pretty fucking incredible at avoiding hurting himself this far -- so he decides against asking. He’ll toughen up, be a man about it.

It takes him ages to get to sleep that night.

 

The next day at school, Chris does his average amount of avoidance, but more purposely avoids Dave. He steps foot in the cafeteria for lunch, immediately locks eyes with Dave, and then turns on his heel to eat lunch in the library.

“Chris!” Dave calls after him, and Chris winces as Dave’s footsteps get closer. He wraps his arms over his chest.

“What do you want?”

His back is still facing Dave.

“I tried to talk to you this morning.” Dave stays behind him, at least respecting Chris’ wish that they don’t talk face to face. “Why are you avoiding me? Is it something I said?”

Chris tightens his grip on himself. “It’s not, okay? I just sadly care a lot about what you think of me -- don’t ask me why, because I don’t fucking know.” He grinds his teeth. “You didn’t do anything, today just… isn’t my day.”

Dave gives a sigh, and Chris turns to find him frowning.

“I’m sorry,” He says.

“Don’t be,” Dave mutters. He’s staring at Chris’ face, studying Chris’ face, and Chris suddenly feels comfortable lowering his arms. Dave doesn’t look anywhere but his face.

Chris is sure his cheeks are going red. He coughs. “I’m gonna--”

“-- right, yeah.” Dave looks over Chris’ shoulder towards the library. “Do you want me to join you? Or is that… Would that be intrusive?”

If it was anyone else, Chris would laugh. But he doesn’t laugh. Instead, he says, “If you really want to.”

**Author's Note:**

> okay this was really fun i love writing chris! this was going to be longer but things always get out of hand for me when they get long and end up going rly out of character. maybe i'll update at some point. who knows.


End file.
